


The Perfect-ish Crime

by bamboozledbylife



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Awkward Family Dinners, Fake Dating, Fluff and Humor, I don't know how to tag this, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Content, Multi, Peak mlm/wlw solidarity, because of who the zoldycks are as people, four people pretending to be straight, mostly because Hisoka is there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-06-17 05:06:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15453969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamboozledbylife/pseuds/bamboozledbylife
Summary: “No,” Hisoka waved off her words, “don't think of this as a favor. This is more of a trade.”“What?” Machi furrowed her brow, trying to puzzle out his meaning.“Tell me, is our dear Pakunoda free on Saturday, as well?”“I… think so? I’d have to ask her.”“Then let it be known that out of the goodness of my heart, I've fixed two problems today,” he proclaimed, “and neither of them were mine.”In which Machi and Illumi, in an attempt to appease parents bigoted and overbearing in equal measure, trade partners for twoextremelyawkward family dinners.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr bamboozledbylife! Each date will be its own chapter, but I haven't decided which is which yet.

“We have a problem.” Illumi sat on the edge of the bed, pants pulled haphazardly back on, hair a wreck. Little bruises littered his fair skin, running from his neck all the way down to his hip bones. They continued further still, marks now obscured by a pesky layer of fabric. 

“I’ll say,” Hisoka licked his lips, “you have no business leaving this bed. Not when you look like that.” Hungry eyes traced down his spine. “You’re practically begging me to ruin you.”  
“Hisoka,” he smacked away a hand reaching for his waist, “this is serious. My parents know.”  
“Your parents know… what?” Hisoka looked at him expectantly. “That I fuck you so hard you forget your own name?”  
“Don't be crude,” he chided. “They know that I’m seeing someone. My mother has insisted that I bring _her_ over for dinner on Saturday.” He stressed the incriminating pronoun.  
“Oh,” he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, “yeah, I don't think I can help you with that one.”  
“Exactly. I can't put it off forever, and I have to think of something.” He tucked a few errant strands of hair behind his ear. “I could always tell them I broke up with her, although I’m not sure they'd believe that.”  
“Lumi, forget your pretend girlfriend.” Hisoka brushed Illumi’s hair over his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. He ran his hands over his bare abdomen and nipped at a fresh bruise, smirking when the other jolted. “Just think about the man who makes you walk funny.”  
“I assume you mean yourself? That’s pretty open ended, what if I thought of another man?” Illumi looked back at him, eyes challenging.  
“If somebody couldn't keep his hands off what isn't his,” Hisoka dug his nails into Illumi’s hips, jaw set, voice low and dangerous, “he might have to die.”  
“Scary,” his monotone suggested anything but fear. “If that's the case, you better not let my mind wander.” 

A hand snaked through his hair, curling tightly at the back of his head and yanking it back, forcing him to bare his throat. Hisoka’s other hand wrapped around the exposed skin, hold snug. A possessive grip elicited a breathy moan, and Illumi let his eyelids flutter shut.  
Hisoka leaned forward, breath hot and tickling against Illumi’s ear. He pressed a kiss to his jawbone, followed by a bite on his ear lobe. 

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

****

 

“No, look- mom. It isn't-“ Machi sighed, unable to get more than a few words in edgewise. “Fine. Yeah, Saturday. I'm hanging up now.” 

She threw her phone on the table, settling her head in her hands. She groaned, frustration bubbling out in nonsensical utterances. 

“That bad, was it?” Pakunoda stirred her tea, sniffing it delicately before taking a small sip. “What did she want this time?”  
“My parents want me to bring my _boyfriend_ over for dinner.” She spat every word with disgust, “I don't even know how they found out I was in a relationship.”  
“That… is quite the predicament. You agreed to these plans, why?”  
“They wouldn't let it go,” Machi exclaimed, “I’ve been fighting with them about this for three weeks, Paku.”  
“Well,” she set her cup back down, fingers tracing around the rim, “when is this dinner?”  
“This Saturday.”  
“Easy then, all you have to do is find a guy willing to go with you,” she stated. “None of our friends would pass up a free meal.”  
“I’m not sure I want any of my friends meeting my parents,” she scoffed. “For everyone’s sake.”  
“You have lots of options,” Pakunoda reminded her gently. “It all depends on the impression you're trying to make.”  
“You're right.” Machi leaned back into her chair, arms crossed loosely over torso. “Most importantly, I need someone who can lie well enough they won't get caught up in it.”  
“That takes Phinks, Uvogin, and Nobunaga off the list.”  
“Secondly, I need someone personable enough that they can actually pass as a boyfriend, rather than some rando I grabbed off the street.”  
“So…” Pakunoda ticked the names off on her fingers, “no Feitan, Franklin, or Bonolenov. There's only three people left on this list.”  
“No,” she grimaced, glaring at the ceiling like she could burn through it if she just tried hard enough. “There's only one name on this list. The final prerequisite is that my parents have to hate him so much they never ask me to bring him over again.”  
“Oh dear god.” Pakunoda shook her head, “taking favors from Hisoka is a slippery slope.”  
“If I had a better option, I’d take it. I’ll call him tomorrow- or something. This might be less awkward in person, actually.”  
“Do what you must.”

****

She sat on the park bench, phone in hand, perpetually glancing around, searching for the man who should've been there ten minutes ago. She'd gone out of her way to show up late and still she had to wait for him. She bounced her leg unthinkingly, annoyance mounting. 

When at last she caught sight of Hisoka, all too collected and confidant for a man so dreadfully late, she was tempted to leave anyways. It would be somewhere in between “pathetic” and “power move.” Knowing that walking away would only fuck her over in the end, she resigned herself to a painful conversation. 

“Good morning, Machi, it’s-“  
“Save it.” It was far too early for his dreadfully transparent niceties. “I'm gonna cut to the chase, I need a favor.”  
“You come for a boon and yet you interrupt me? That kind of behavior is awfully gauche,” he teased.  
“Look,” she grit her teeth, “this is weird enough already, don't make it worse.”  
“Then ask your favor already. I don't have all day.”  
“You-“ she sneered at his flippant comment- “I was waiting here for you. If you were so busy, maybe you should've showed up on time.”  
“If I were so busy, and I am, I would leave when my companion began to critique my punctuality. You know, instead of whatever it was she asked me here for.”  
“I need you to come to dinner with my parents on Saturday and pretend to be my boyfriend.” The words came out in a jumble, falling one after the other like verbal dominoes.  
“Saturday? As in two days from now Saturday?”  
“Yes, god, please tell me you don't have plans.”  
“As it happens,” he sat on the bench next to her, crossing his legs with his ankle set on his knee, “I don’t.”  
“I know you want something back, so-“  
“No,” he waved off her words, “don't think of this as a favor. This is more of a trade.”  
“What?” Machi furrowed her brow, trying to puzzle out his meaning.  
“Tell me, is our dear Pakunoda free on Saturday, as well?”  
“I… think so? I’d have to ask her.”  
“Then let it be known that out of the goodness of my heart, I've fixed two problems today,” he proclaimed, “and neither of them were mine.”  
“I’ll text you the details,” she jabbed him in the arm, “you better not flake.”  
“On you, Machi?” He winked, “never.” 

She rolled her eyes, standing up to leave. He blew her a kiss and she responded with a middle finger held high in the air. With her back turned to him she still heard his laughter. Part of her couldn't believe she'd done that, made a plan so abysmally stupid, so idiotic, it might just work. The perfect crime, in the most twisted sense of the phrase.


	2. The Hisoka and Machi One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka and Machi fake date up first, full of Hisoka playing his role as chaotic bastard, and... honestly, that's pretty much it.

Machi’s hands gripped the steering wheel tight, anxious nerves pulsating. _Pop._ She'd parked around the street from her parents suburban abode, hoping the short walk and the cool night air might soothe her frazzled mind. _Pop._ Sitting inside her car, however, with the source of most of her anxiety did nothing. _Pop._  
Sitting inside her car, with the man who wouldn't stop- _pop_ \- popping his gum, was doing the opposite. _Pop._ It was driving her in- _Pop._

“Hisoka. If you pop that gum one more fucking time,” her voice strained, words spoken through gritted teeth, “it’s about to get really Chicago in this car, really fast.”   
“Hm, I didn't know you could sing,” he responded dismissively. “You in a leotard and fishnets sounds pretty hot though.”  
“I’d strangle you, but I think my parents might like you more as a corpse.”   
He ignored her threat outright, leveling her with a look that could’ve been described as pensive on another man.

“You know what I've been thinking?”  
“No,” she rolled her eyes, something that would become a familiar gesture in the next few hours, “but I'm _sure_ you're gonna tell me.”   
“You should've had Paku give you a hickey,” he continued, “it really would've taken this whole thing to the next level.”   
“I want my parents to hate you, not me.” She rolled her eyes, “I don't need to have that conversation with them again.”   
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, “I’m only trying to help. In fact, I could-“  
“Stop.” She held her hand up, pushing it directly into the side of his face. “If you finish that sentence you’re meeting my parents without your front teeth.”

She caught sight of his Cheshire Cat grin moments before something slimy and moist connected with the meat of her hand. She pulled it back just far enough to piston it into his jaw, knocking his head into the window. 

“Did you just lick me, you weird fuck?!”   
“If I said no, would you believe me?” 

She wiped her hand on the sleeve of his shirt, leaving a damp trail in it’s wake. 

“I cannot fucking believe you,” she seethed, “get out of my goddamn car.”  
“I’ve been waiting for you to take the initiative here,” his hand rested on the door handle nonetheless, “these are your parents, after all.”   
“Just… just get out.” 

He opened his door and stood in one fluid motion, closing it securely behind him. Machi sighed deeply, leaning forward to rest her arms on her steering wheel, and her forehead on her arms. It was quiet for the first time since he’d gotten in her car, and she did her best simply to breath. 

She jolted when her door was opened, glaring at the only possible perpetrator. That cheeky smile was still plastered on, but something more akin to annoyance, or maybe impatience, played around his eyes.

“Have a mental breakdown at your parent’s, it’s cold out here.”   
“Then freeze.”   
“Come on,” he urged, “everything’s going to be fine, stop being a baby.”   
“I- excuse you? Everything better not be fine. This is supposed to be a disaster.”  
“Okay, okay, look, you’re going to be fine, I’m going to be the disaster corrupting their pure daughter. Happy now?”   
“Strangely, yes.” She unbuckled her seat belt, sliding out of her seat. “I think that’s the most reassuring thing you’ve ever said. Never say it again.”   
“You know I won’t. I’m only your fake boyfriend for tonight, I’m a bastard 365.”   
“Illumi’s either the craziest person alive,” she muttered, “or he has the patience of a saint.”  
“Who knows? Maybe it’s both.” 

Hisoka closed her door behind her, and she locked her car before shoving the keys back into her purse. The night was indeed cold, but Machi had come prepared with coat, scarf, and the pair of gloves she pulled on now that had been stashed in her pockets, nothing like the man shivering besides her in a tank top. She felt a twinge of pity, since his attire was part of the ruse. Any sympathies were squashed when he tried to hold her hand.

“We aren’t fake dating until they open that front door,” she swatted his hand away, “mind yourself.”   
“But Machi,” he whined, “it’s cold out here.”  
“Then you should’ve worn gloves, like these,” she held her gloved hand up for emphasis, “you see, Hisoka? Gloves? Maybe buy some.” 

The gloves were a dusty pink, and she’d knitted them herself. They were soft and insulating, perfect for the chilly autumn weather. The pair was also a perfect fit on her hands, neither too tight, nor too loose; it was their undoing, when one slid off her hand at little prompting. 

“Oh no,” he exclaimed in mock surprise, “why did you only wear one glove, Machi? That seems a little silly, isn’t your hand cold?”  
“Those took me forever to make, you better give that back.” She tried to snatch it from his hands, but he was quicker and taller than her, and this game played to his advantage. “I’m not kidding, Hisoka, right now, hand it over.”  
“Don’t worry,” he spoke with a patronizing tone, as though placating a small child, “I will. Just hold my hand for a little bit, and then I’ll give it right over when we get there.”  
“Do you do this kind of stuff to your real boyfriend?”  
“Not exactly, because, you see, I date him everyday. If I did this to Illumi he’d break up with me.”

She allowed his hand to catch hold of hers, but she squeezed it with a crushing ferocity. She spoke in a whisper when they rounded the corner and she caught sight of her parent’s front porch. A flood of memories, more uncomfortable than pleasant, rushed through her and she shuddered at the unbidden feelings.

“Shut up about the fake stuff now, we’re close.”  
“Oh? But didn’t you say: we aren’t dating until-“   
“I don’t care,” she interrupted, “shut your mouth.” 

They neared her address in relative silence, nothing but the sounds of footsteps and gentle breathing. Just the proximity to her childhood home seemed to suffocate her, and while Hisoka may be annoying, he wasn’t tone deaf. There was no more teasing, no more obnoxious antics. If she stopped thinking about it, she could almost pretend she was here with a genuinely supportive friend. Just for tonight, he’d have to be enough.

She stopped at the short path leading to her parents’ front steps, more grateful for the hand in hers than she’d care to admit.

“Hisoka… I know I’ve given you some shit tonight, and that I’ll definitely give you more, but-” she stared blankly ahead, mind caught up in bleak years of childhood past- “don’t play it safe. I need my parents convinced beyond a doubt that you’re on the fast track to Hell.”  
“Oh, Machi,” he laughed, “don’t worry about that. My personality was once described as repulsive as a cocktail of anthrax, syphilis, and raw sewage. You’re parents will believe that I’m Satan himself.”   
“Yeah, that was you, wasn’t it.” She smiled fondly, “Chrollo said that, right? Just after you guys broke up?”  
“It was Chrollo, but we were actually still dating when he said it. Our relationship was just like that, you know how it is.”   
“I’ve never had a relationship half as dysfunctional as any of yours. A few misses, sure, but no train wrecks in my past.”  
“Shame. I feel a few explosions really liven up the place, I don’t know how I’d spend time alone with myself without them.”  
“I’m not even gonna begin to unpack that sentence,” she shook her head, “today’s about my childhood traumas, wait your turn.”  
“Typical Machi,” he teased, “hogging the spotlight.”   
“You’re one to talk,” she responded flippantly, “attention whore extraordinaire, right here.”   
“I’m-“ he stopped speaking when his sentence was interrupted by the opening of the door in front of them.

A middle-aged woman stood in the door frame, demeanor aloof in a way unusual of a parent welcoming their child home after a long absence. Her long dress nearly touched her feet and the apron around her waist bore stains of whatever she’d been preparing. Her gray streaked hair was pulled back in a messy bun, strands flying out every which way.

“Holy shit, babe,” Hisoka switched with ease into affectionate pet names, “you didn’t tell me your house was haunted! Who’s this, the old butcher’s wife, murdered for her infidelity? The madam of a brothel, killed by an ornery John? So many possibilities.”  
“D- darling,” she stuttered on the transition, barely catching the word “dip shit” before it came out of her mouth, “that’s my mother.”   
“Oh,” he sighed in disappointment, “how long before you think she’ll kick it? She already looks like a cool ghost, what’s left?”   
“Are you two coming inside, or not?” Machi’s mother demanded, “you’re wasting the AC.”   
“No, you’re wasting the AC, leaving the door open. We were having a nice conversation out here before you decided to interrupt, so feel free to fuck off back inside your shack, witch.”  
“We’re coming inside,” Machi hastily added, “right now, in fact.” 

Her mother stepped aside to allow them entrance, openly glaring at Hisoka the whole time. He returned her steely gaze with a flirty wink and air kiss. This soured her mood further, annoyance as clear as Hisoka’s mirth. She didn’t speak to them once they were inside, retreating back into the kitchen and leaving the two alone in the entrance.   
Machi slipped her shoes off, nudging Hisoka to do the same. He shook his head at her, mouthing the word “no.” She started at him quizzically before shrugging her coat off, the man’s methods were none of her concern, so long as they worked.

Her mom returned shortly, her dad in tow. He looked about the same age as her mother, taller only by an inch or two. He carried the same bitter air, the weight of his personality and poor choices morphing his being. He studied Hisoka critically and found himself distasteful of his findings after a few seconds.

“I believe you owe my wife an apology.”  
“We’re all entitled to our beliefs,” Hisoka responded, “doesn’t make them right.”  
“In this house, young man,” Machi’s father scowled, “we respect our elders.”  
“I’m not much for rules.”  
“Now look here-“   
“Dad,” Machi stepped in before her father could launch into a monologue, “you haven’t even given him a chance to introduce himself. Let’s at least get to dinner before you tear his head off?”  
“Fine,” he grunted, extending his hand in Hisoka’s direction, “my first name doesn’t matter to you, you may address me only as Mr. Komachine.”   
“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Komachine.” Hisoka accepted the hand, shaking it firmly. “I’m the man who fucks your daughter.”

The silence was so resounding it was more like outer space than a living room. Hisoka smiled as though he’d said nothing wrong, never breaking eye contact with the aghast Mr. Komachine.

“She’s great in bed, you should be proud. She’s way better than most religious chicks, I mean really it’s an achievement.” 

A timer down the hall sounded as their salvation.  
“Dinner,” Mrs. Komachine said lamely, “dinner’s ready.” 

~~~~

Seated around the short table, four plates of spaghetti grew cold, all equally neglected. Hisoka leaned in his chair, arm slung around the back of Machi’s. She played with her noodles, shifting them around with her fork. Her father refused to take his eyes off Hisoka, her mother making a show of inspecting her fork.

“So,” Hisoka began, “you have a beautiful daughter.” Everyone at the table seemed taken aback by the normalcy of this comment, Machi more perplexed than relieved. “Was she adopted?” There it was.  
“Excuse me?” Her father was already beginning to turn red, “no, she was not.”  
“Oh… well-” Hisoka looked pointedly back and forth between Machi and her father- “are you sure she’s yours? ‘Cause I’m not here to mince words and those looks she’s got didn’t come from either of you goblins. Maybe there’s a little milk man in the gene pool?” 

Her father’s face went beet red and he spluttered on his words. In lieu of an intelligible response he settled for a long drink of his wine. The pure anger radiating from her parents set her stomach on edge, but for the first time in their home she felt nauseous from repressed laughter, not fear. She wasn’t interested in police or jail time, and she didn’t hope this would come to blows, but she couldn’t deny that it would be satisfying to watch Hisoka knock her dad’s lights out.

“So, um,” her mother fumbled for the right words, “honey, what did you say your boyfriends name was again?”   
“Hisoka.”  
“Right, right. So, Hisoka, where do you go to church?”  
“I don’t,” he answered, “I’m a staunch atheist, always have been. A higher power, my ass. Who needs it?” He laughed at her mother’s stunned face. “Just gonna take a guess from the amount of crosses on your walls, you’re the intolerant kind of Christians.”   
“We are not intolerant or hateful, or any other word you’d use to slander our religion,” her father spat, “we just believe in actual moral standards, something this country doesn’t have any more.”  
“Those damn gays,” Hisoka quipped, “how dare they exist when their lifestyle scares me.”  
“I’m not frightened of those- those- immoral freaks.”  
“No, of course you’re not,” he agreed, “I mean, why would you be? With the size of the stick up your ass, you’d think you like the feeling or something. How can you be so sure you’re not gay yourself, Mr. Komachine? Or should I call you daddy?” 

Her father stood abruptly, chair screeching against the floor.

“I will be upstairs.” He stalked away, knuckles white from the tension of his balled fists. His wife joined him in a hurry, retaining enough of her propriety to scoot her chair back in and excuse herself before leaving.   
“Have fun,” Hisoka called after them, “we’ll be right here.”  
“Did-“ Machi stared at him in confusion- “did you just sexually harass my dad into running away?”   
“All part of the plan. So, are they going to kick us out soon or what?” Hisoka inspected his food with disgust. “I’m not eating this, so they better hurry up so we can get actual dinner somewhere.”  
“I can’t believe this,” she stated, “how is this so easy for you? Here I was, worried that they’d ask questions about our relationship, worried that they wouldn’t believe us, and you haven’t even given them a chance to say a word edgewise.”  
“Did you hear me?” He waved his hand in front of her face. “Hello? Are we almost done here or..?”   
“There’s a 90% chance they come downstairs and kick us out.”   
“Fantastic.”

The minutes dragged on, just the two of them waiting quietly. Machi pulled her phone out, checking for an update from her girlfriend on her own fake date. Pakunoda would probably have to suffer the Zoldyck’s much longer than Hisoka would have to stand Machi’s parents. With not so much as a text received, she shoved the device back in her pocket.

“Since your parents are taking a century, can we leave now?”  
“No, they have to kick us out.”  
“If that’s the case, you should sit on my lap.”   
“What do those two things have to do with each other?” She asked him incredulously, “how do you make these conclusions?”  
“It would just look weird, that’s all I’m saying. We’re still aiming for weird, right?”   
“I guess.” She sighed deeply, resigning herself to the death of her dignity. “I’m never doing this again.”  
“You wouldn’t be you if you did.”

She shifted out of her chair, perching uncomfortably on his leg. She moved her legs to rest over his and sat stiffly, refusing to lean into him. It wouldn’t be a bad way to sit, just closer than she preferred to be to him; not that Hisoka had ever been much for personal space.

It was almost like their closeness had triggered some alarm upstairs, and soon enough she could hear her father’s footsteps on the stairs. She braced herself for the impending confrontation. With careful control he walked back to his chair, not sitting, but just standing in front of them.

“We’ve tolerated far too many of your antics this evening,” he pointed an accusatory finger at the couple, “this is crossing a line. Under this roof you will maintain some sensibilities, and you molesting my daughter at the dinner table is crossing a line.”   
“Molestation’s a strong word.”  
“And you are corrupting my innocent child, I’ll use whatever language I please. Machi,” he turned his attention to his daughter, “when you said you were bringing your boyfriend for dinner, I hadn’t imagined anything nearly this terrible. How do you explain this abomination?”   
“Excuse me?” Hisoka interrupted before she could answer, “did you say boyfriend? You must be mistaken, we aren’t dating.”  
“Machi, explain yourself this instant,” her father demanded. “You’re disgracing this whole family, bringing this thing here.”

Machi’s mouth hung open, too stunned for words. He’d just ruined it, he’d ruined everything. What was the point of all this thing if he was just going to-

“We’re not dating,” he laughed, “we’re engaged.”   
“Y-yeah, that’s… yeah,” she added unhelpfully. “What he said.” 

Her dad’s eyes looked fit to pop out of his skull, and she heard the sound of what might’ve been her mother fainting from the next room. Instead of the outpouring of fury she’d imagined next, her father instead put his head in hands, despairing. It shocked her; out of every possible reaction she’d never imagined sadness.

“Dad? Are you-“ she hesitated- “are you okay?”   
“How.” He muttered, “how could we raise such a worthless child.”  
“Because you’re terrible parents and worse people,” Hisoka answered, “this isn’t rocket science.”  
“You have no place to criticize us,” her father spat. “Please, God, why have you forsaken us? Why have you given us such an ungrateful daughter?”   
“Look at the bright side, she isn’t a lesbian with a respectful, considerate, and compassionate girlfriend she loves. It could always be worse.”   
“Yeah,” she punched Hisoka in the leg as she agreed, “it could be way worse. I could be engaged to a gay dude.”   
“Enough. Get out of my house. Don’t come back into my home until you’re without the dead weight.”  
“Can do, Mr. Komachine,” he answered for the both of them.

Machi slid off Hisoka’s lap, a small smile gracing her lips. She quickly turned away, hiding her grin from a man who couldn’t see it. Hisoka groaned as he stretched his legs, leaving, but in no rush.

“Have a good night,” he waved cheerily, “it was nice meeting you, but it’ll be nicer never seeing you again.” Her father didn’t grace this with a response, blind and deaf to the world for the moment.

She retrieved her coat from where she’d left it hanging next to the door, stepping over her mother, who had indeed passed out. This might have been more disturbing if it'd been someone else. She glanced at her unconscious form uncaringly, the only emotion surfacing being mild disgust. She waited there for Hisoka, who didn’t linger long after his last remarks. 

If entering the house felt like walking into hell, leaving it felt like heaven. The fresh air on her face, the scent of autumn leaves, the sounds of the neighborhood. It reminded her why she’d run away from home four separate times. The feeling was almost nostalgic at this point. The only difference today was Hisoka behind her, so satisfied with himself it was palpable. 

She waited to speak until they were a comfortable distance from the house.

“That was fast.” She checked her phone time, “I can’t believe I doubted you. It only took you 45 minutes to get us thrown out of my parent’s house.”  
“In my defense, they spent like twenty minutes upstairs. I could’ve gotten us thrown out in 15 if they’d just stayed in the dining room.”   
“You know, the first time my parent kicked me out I was 7 and they thought I’d come home from school with a hickey on my neck.”  
“They thought their seven year old had a hickey and they didn’t like… ask you what is was? Or maybe just call the police?”  
“Nope,” she said, “they did call me a slut, though.”   
“What was it actually?”  
“Hives. I’m allergic to bananas, and my friend had let me have a bite of hers at school. I’d been scratching them and I’d broken the blood vessels. They left me outside all night and I fell asleep on the porch.”   
“See, this is exactly why Pakunoda should’ve given you a hickey, this could’ve taken five minutes, but _no,_ you’re too good for that.”   
“Damn straight.”   
“The opposite of that, actually.”   
She snorted, refusing to laugh at such an inane joke. “I thought you blew the whole thing, when you said we weren’t dating. I was fully ready to murder you in that moment, just so you’re aware.”  
“I appreciate your candor, as well as your murderous intent,” Hisoka grinned, “it’s what made tonight fun.”  
“Now that we’re talking about it,” she paused, growing serious, “why did you change the story? What was the point?”  
“Hm,” he thought for a moment. “I guess it was an easy out for you.”   
“Is it hard to be so needlessly vague?”  
“Illumi asks me that same question,” he replied, “but I just meant that you can take it however you want. You can tell your parents we broke it off in a few months and pretend I never happened, or you can tell them we got married and never speak to them again. It’s up to you.”   
“If I didn’t want to speak with them, I’d just tell them I’m gay.”   
“Not necessarily. Baring your soul to people who’ll hate you for it is hard, lying is easy.”  
“That’s way more thoughtful then you should be capable of,” she pinched him on the arm, “are you sure you’re the real Hisoka?”  
“Ow,” he rubbed the sore spot, “yes. Call it another perk of our one day engagement.” 

They reached her car, and she unlocked the doors with a _beep._

“As thanks, you can pick where we get dinner.”  
“Ooo, a prestigious honor.” He pulled out his own phone, waiting for the same sort of text she'd been. “We should get Italian food. Something better than whatever was on the table.”   
“You grew up eating out of trashcans, so shut it.”   
“I ate quality refuse,” he insisted, “people throw away some good stuff.”   
“We’ll argue about this over real food,” she huffed, “and you’re not gonna win, trust me.”  
“Oh ye of little faith,” he opened the passenger door, “that’s what you thought before I made your parents hate me, isn’t it? You’ll be surprised, I can be very persuasive when I want to.”

She rolled her eyes, walking around to the driver’s side and pulling the door open. She sat heavily in the seat, disbelief of the night's events beginning to set in. Even now, she could only dream about speaking to her parents so disrespectfully as Hisoka had. Sure, there’d been a lot of fighting when she was a teenager, but it’d never ended well for her. This afternoon had felt like winning; she’d finally been in control of a situation she’d always been helpless in.   
One final question weighed on her mind, and for once the responsibility seemed alleviating.

“How long should I wait before I say we got married? Does tomorrow sound too soon?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering, no, Hisoka did not give her her glove back. Up next: The Illumi and Pakunoda date, better known as: if you thought this chapter was awkward, you ain't seen nothing yet.


End file.
